


Not His Strong Suit

by AgentStovring



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Harvey, Co-workers, Donna is Donna, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Top Mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStovring/pseuds/AgentStovring
Summary: If Mike is so smart, then why hasn't he noticed Harvey's shameless flirting?





	Not His Strong Suit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merliknight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merliknight/gifts).



> I've included a few events from the series, but they're not in chronological order, so I wouldn't think too hard about it; it won't make sense under a microscope.

Discretion had never really been Harvey's strong suit.  
Sure, he could keep secrets, that was a big part of his job description; and he could be appropriately subtle, when a situation called for it; but in his personal life, he preferred a direct approach in everything he did.  
  
That included romance, though admittedly he did not have a lot going on in that department. He put in countless hours at the office, in court, and even at home preparing. He hadn't had any meaningful connections in ages, and honestly he'd come to find casual dating exhausting.  
  
Going out to dinner and struggling to make conversation? He did that with clients and business relations all the time. With dates he usually ended up pretending to listen to the other person while desperately trying to contribute something that didn't have to do with his job. And all that effort was for nothing, because most of the dates ended in goodbyes and empty promises to meet again.

Make no mistake, Harvey Specter was the best damn closer in the city, no matter the playing field; he could take any woman to bed at the end of a date, he just chose not to.  
Casual sex almost seemed too much of a hassle for a relatively small payoff. Should he ask the person to leave after and seem like a jerk? Or suffer the awkwardness of the morning after? He was a grown man, for goodness sake! The appeal of the bachelor lifestyle was wearing off. 

Sex was great and all, but nowadays he wanted more. He wasn't longing for marriage, spawn and a sensible minivan - he'd probably kill a man before agreeing to move out of the city - but he wanted someone to wake up next to.  
Someone to eat breakfast with in the morning; someone joining him on the couch, ready to watch a movie; someone to take to bed without the prelude of an actual date.  
He knew that when the right person came along, when he was ready to take a chance, he'd do it right.  
Until then, Harvey's physical needs were something he could handle himself with a firm grip and a little imagination.

\----

Harvey was well aware that he worked with a lot of beautiful people, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't entertained a few fantasies in the past; powerful women in office wear will do that do a person. All those tailored jackets, pencil skirts, button up shirts; somehow he hadn't grown bored of it yet.  
That being said, the office also had the occasional male candidate for his attention, equally tempting in a nice suit.  
Like Mike Ross, for example, or..  
Alright, so recently it had just been Mike Ross.

Before Mike had stumbled into Harvey's life, the older man hadn't messed around with guys since college; and he'd sort of assumed that it was an experimental phase he'd left behind along with red plastic cups and socks on the door.  
He often met attractive men - living in New York meant encountering a fair amount of models, after all - but he rarely felt anything more than a passing interest. Until Mike.

At first Harvey had simply noted the other man's good looks, in a platonic way even; Mike Ross was just a handsome guy in desperate need of better suits. Then, when the better suits happened, a good body suddenly became visible as well.  
Harvey found it increasingly harder to deny a physical attraction; as well as the realization that he was growing fond of the kid; a brilliantly gifted being, so full of potential, who was winning him over with every turn. Not to mention, an exasperating spaz with questionable decision making skills and a complete lack of social graces.

One of the bigger problems with being attracted to a colleague was seeing them every day; and since Harvey worked twice as much as any sane person would - with Mike following his lead - surely this was much worse for him than for most others in the same situation.  
Even if he could somehow be sure that Mike was single, and even if Mike was queer,  merely hinting at an office romance could be trouble. It could ruin their working relationship; their  - dare he say it - friendship; the natural ease and rhythm that had quickly started defining their interactions.  
He doubted Mike would go as far as suing him for sexual harassment, but who knew, really.  
Not wanting to risk it, Harvey swore to himself that he would be discrete; one of his least favorite things to be.

\---

"Flowers die. I thought I'd bring you something better. Me."

Alright, so fuck  being discrete. Discretion was played out, Harvey felt, because while Mike was smart enough to rule the legal world from his snazzy new office, he was apparently the most oblivious genius to ever walk God's green earth.  
The first time Harvey made a less-than-professional comment it had been a slip of the tongue, total accident, and thankfully Mike hadn't reacted. But since then many slips had followed, and Harvey had come to realize that it didn't matter what flirtatious banter he threw his colleague's way; Mike didn't seem to realize his implications.

\-----

The next time it happened, Harvey was going to a seedy bar downtown to speak to someone who might have information on a case they were working on. Mike offered to come along, of course, but Harvey immediately turned him down.

"Forget it, you're staying home; your pretty face is gonna get us both in trouble."

The second the words had left his mouth he wanted to kick himself, but as always Mike just gazed up at him with those sweet baby blues, quirking his mouth into a smile. Harvey's attitude immediately changed and he wished instead that his words had been far more explicit, making his intentions clear.  
At least then he could finally put a lid on his silly crush. Or, ideally, bend Mike over his desk, not caring if the whole company dropped by to watch.  
He pictured Mike's crisp, white shirt shoved halfway up his back, creamy skin against the dark cherry wood desk; Harvey's hand at the base of his neck, squeezing just hard enough-  
  
"You okay, Harvey? You're looking a little tense."  
  
"Oh.."

He realized he'd been gripping the edge of the desk and, willing himself not to blush, he let go.

\----

Then there's the evening at the casino.  
They're in the back of the limo together and Mike is pathetically incapable of tying a bowtie, good lord. Boy Wonder has memorized entire heavy volumes of common and corporate law without straining himself, but a simple four-in-hand knot leaves him stumped?  
They would be arriving together, Mike practically on his arm; no way Harvey would allow the sloppy handiwork the younger man had managed; never mind going without a bowtie. The _horror._

So Harvey tied it for him, no big deal; what are colleagues for?  
And so what if Harvey scooted closer than strictly necessary; so what if he caught a whiff of nice cologne, a hint of some hair product and - lord have mercy - the authentic scent of the man himself underneath all that.  
So what if he fumbled for a moment, the silky fabric slipping through his fingers, and an unexpected swerve of the vehicle had him momentarily brazing himself on Mike's firm chest. When the bow tie was perfectly in place, Harvey pulled back like a rubber band, and seconds later they arrived at the casino, allowing him to bail from the limousine before Mike had time to question anything.

\--

It had already been a long day, and it was still morning. After a short few hours of sleep, Harvey had dragged himself to the office where he was relieved to have a day of mostly desk work in front of him. The only downside to this was that he would be working in close proximity to Donna all day, and Donna was chipper like nobody's business.  
How she managed to be both a morning person and a night owl was an eternal mystery to Harvey, but not one he cared to solve at the present moment.  
His lack of sleep was partially due to a disturbing nightmare, the details of which he'd mostly forgotten as soon as he woke up; but it definitely involved Mike Ross, an empty court room, and a lot of cold sweat.

As he stared at his paperwork, trying to focus on the words long enough to comprehend their meaning, Donna walked into his office, putting down a mug of fresh coffee.

"Harvey, you're one of my oldest friends, and I say this with love; the way you're acting is pathetic and you're bringing everybody down."  
  
"As always, your compassion is truly touching, Donna."  
  
"Come on, sad sack, what's bumming you out?"  
  
"I'm not a sad sack; I'm a man trying to get work done, only his secretary won't let him."  
  
Donna had been keeping an eye on him all morning, from a distance, but now she pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. After a minute or so, Harvey looked up from his paperwork, very aware of her analytical gaze still on him.  
  
"For God's sake, Donna, what?!"  
  
"This is about Mike, isn't it?"

Harvey was momentarily stunned into silence, which was all Donna needed; she got up from her newly taken seat, taking nonchalant steps around the office in her Stuart Weitzman pumps. It reminded Harvey for the umpteenth time that she'd make a terrifying lawyer. Even more so when she made her opening statement.  
  
"Let's not pretend you haven't been staring at him-"  
  
"I have not been _staring_ at him."  
  
"-like he was _dinner_!"  
  
Harvey rolled his eyes, a tired sigh leaving him. Of course he'd been looking, but he'd told himself he was at least being cool about it. Though obviously, when Donna was the accuser, that didn't say much; if Miss Marple and Sherlock Holmes had conceived an heir that had inherited all their combined smarts, Donna would have made that person look like a hapless fool.  
  
"Is this common knowledge or Donna knowledge?"  
  
"Jessica had her suspicions."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"But I told her she was reading into things; that he's your protege, he needs supervision, and you're just looking out for him."  
  
Harvey let out a breath of relief. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome. So, are you in love or do you just wanna nail him?"  
  
"Donna."  
  
"I'm kidding, I know you like him. It's cute."  
  
"It's not cute, it's- you know what, if you know and Jessica is suspicious, how come Mike Ross, the sharp legal mind, is completely oblivious?"  
  
"Well, naturally you only ogle him when he's not looking."  
  
"I do not ogle. What about the flirting?"  
  
"What flirting?"  
  
"I mean all the dirty shit I say to him; just yesterday, I told him I was picturing him in drag!"  
  
Donna gave a slight frown of confusion, eyes searching her boss' face for an explanation. When she found none, her expression transformed into one of clear disapproval.  
  
"Harvey."  
  
"Donna."  
  
"That's how you talk to everyone."  
  
"I do not make dirty remarks at everyone."  
  
"Not in a sexual way, no, but in a borderline inappropriate teasing way. You're like that with everyone you're friendly with; it's how you talk to me, to Jessica, your tailor, your whiskey guy, and everyone in the building when you're having a good day. If you do it a little more with Mike, it's hardly noticeable."

Harvey mentally went over his latest interactions with the people mentioned, and quickly realized that Donna was right as always. He did have a tendency to use less than appropriate language around people he was comfortable with.  
  
No wonder Mike wasn't picking up on anything; he probably (rightfully) assumed that he was becoming Harvey's right hand man, and that Harvey was simply using familiar language. Harvey immediately felt guilty; Mike probably just wanted to be part of the team, thrilled to be in on the banter; and here Harvey was hitting on him, half-hoping he wouldn't even notice.

Donna, all-knowing and all-powerful, recognized the negativity creeping into her boss' thoughts and intervened.  
  
"He obviously doesn't mind, but maybe you need to, you know, actually make a move on him?"  
  
"And if he's not interested? I'm not looking to get myself fired, or to scare him away."  
  
"You're not going to get fired; interoffice dating is not against the rules, just frowned upon. And you're a name partner, who would dare frown upon you? Worst case scenario, he turns you down and transfers to another associate. Or leaves the firm."  
  
Harvey gave a huff of offence at the idea of another associate having Mike around, and Donna smiled with smug satisfaction as if she was reading his mind.  
  
"I did say worst case scenario, didn't I? Don't even worry about it, the kid worships you; he values your opinion beyond anyone else's, and he's constantly hanging out in your office. I'm sure he'll do whatever perverted thing you can think of in exchange for your validation."  
  
"That's not funny."  
  
Donna headed for the door, flipping back her mane of red hair, teasingly sing-songing her final remark.  
  
"Think about it.."

\-----

But from that moment on, there wasn't a lot of time for Harvey to think about it, because the next day a significant problem presented itself. A legal stenographer who'd often sat in on witness testimonies was involved in a major fraud case. Nothing unusual, except this time he wasn't taking notes; he was the accused.  
  
As the word started to spread, Sean Cahill was being his usual asshole self and had asked that Pearson Specter submit every case the stenographer sat in on, for the investigation. Since the stenographer had been in his position for many years, his oldest cases were not digital, but still filed on paper.  
The only way to find the exact files was to go through every single case dating back to the year the company had first used the stenographer, sorting all of them manually.

When Cahill had submitted his request, Harvey had smiled bitterly through his frustration.  
"Son of a bitch. He's reverse document-dumping us."

Jessica knew that making interns and other foot soldiers do the heavy lifting would practically be inviting Sean Cahill to question the accuracy of their results, so the higher-ups all took their fair share and started digging in.  
Of course this extra work had to happen after hours, when the regular appointments and tasks were finished; which was why Harvey was setting up base camp on the black leather couch in his office at 8 p.m.  
He had 9 boxes of files stacked up next to him, the contents of a 10th spread out on the low coffee table in front of him; armed with a large black coffee and a take-out menu for later, he started systematically reading over the files.

A mere 18 fruitless minutes later he heard distant footsteps and his frustration grew; his lack of progress was already disheartening, and now he was being distracted by other people, despite the promise of having the floor to himself.  
When the footsteps came closer, he mentally prepared himself for a confrontation, even though he knew his anger was misplaced and irrational; the offending stranger was probably just passing through.  
But the person who came into view was not a stranger, and Harvey's office was in fact his destination.

It was Mike, in all his glory; well-rested from having the day off and casual as could be in jeans and a threadbare t-shirt. He was carrying six-pack of beer in one hand and his jacket over the other arm.  
Harvey stared at him, wondering briefly if he was experiencing a caffeine-induced hallucination.  
  
"Mike, it's your day off, what the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"This gratitude, rolling over me in waves right now, that's the reason for everything I do."

He set down the backpack he'd been wearing, put the six-pack in the mini fridge and threw his jacket over the back of a chair.  
"I'm here to help."

Before Harvey could protest, Mike had planted himself on the floor at the older man's feet and pulled a box of files closer. Unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't sound like a declaration of love, Harvey scoffed, nodding towards the fridge.  
  
"I see you brought refreshments."  
  
"Well, I figured you'd only thought to get coffee, and that's gonna go terribly with food later."

Harvey opened his mouth and closed it again. Damn it. That was true. He didn't like being outsmarted, and it was starting to become too familiar a feeling when he was around Mike; but he was glad to have help with the files, and was looking forward to drinking a cold beer with his dinner later.

Soon they fell into comfortable silence, working steadily accompanied only by the occasional sounds of pages being turned and highlighters being put to paper. The clock on the wall quietly kept track as seconds turned into minutes.

The next thing Harvey was aware of was a hand on his knee. He jerked his head upwards, inhaling sharply, and blinked rapidly as he focused his eyes on Mike, owner of the before-mentioned hand, who was looking both worried and mildly entertained.  
  
"Harvey?"  
  
"Hm? Yeah?"  
  
"You were nodding off."  
  
"What? No, I wasn't, I was just thinking!"  
  
"You were totally dozing, I thought I'd lost you for a second."

Harvey's cheeks colored slightly. He had definitely nodded off for a moment, not something that usually happened to him; his razor-sharp focus and work stamina - stamina in general, really - had always been a point of pride for him.  
With his priorities way off for a second, he wondered if this would make Mike see him as even more of an old man than he probably already did. But Mike seemed less focused on age and more interested in Harvey's well-being; he rose to his feet, a few joints making crackling sounds on the way up, and reached for the take-out menus.

"I think it's time for some dinner. When did you last eat?"  
  
"Uh, around noon, I think? I met a client for lunch."

Mike looked scandalized.  
"It's almost 9 now! We need to get some dinner in you. No wonder you're falling asleep, your body is running on empty."

Harvey wanted to protest, but Mike was already dialing his phone; and Harvey was pretty hungry, there was no point in denying that. Originally he'd been planning on ordering dinner once he was done working, but involuntary naps wouldn't exactly get the work done efficiently. It was better to grab some food and keep working with renewed energy.

Harvey eyed the pile of relevant files Mike had found -  almost twice as big as Harvey's pile - and watched the younger man walk around the office, ordering food with his phone to his ear.  
If someone had passed by the office just then, they would probably have seen hearts in Harvey's eyes, all the way from the hallway. He had a lot of affection for Mike in general, but inappropriate crushing aside, he was massively grateful for the help Mike had already provided. It was almost enough to put a lump in his throat.

Mike in casual clothes, however, was gonna put a lump in Harvey's pants if he didn't stop staring. Harvey loved a good suit, obviously, but now that he was used to seeing Mike all buttoned up and tailored, the jeans and t-shirt look was having the same effect the suits used to have. The unfamiliarity of it made it extra pleasing. Like he was witness to a more private side of Mike, reserved for those closest to him.

He wondered what Mike wore to bed, if he even - nope, that was too dangerous a road.  
Harvey looked back down at his files and Mike returned to the floor, having successfully put in a food order. He'd even called the security guy downstairs and arranged for the food to be brought all the way up to the office, so they wouldn't be disturbed more than necessary.

Both men went back to silent perusing, though Harvey did feel Mike's eyes on him several times, probably checking to see if he was staying awake.  
After a while, Harvey reached for his highlighter, but realized Mike was using it. Just as he started to ask Mike for it back, he was interrupted by the younger man.

"O-oh shit! A Mike Ross original, check this out!" Mike exclaimed, grinning as he waved a stack of paper in the air. Harvey deigned to join him on the floor, taking the case file from him to take a closer look.  
Mike leaned in to read over Harvey's shoulder, gesturing eagerly to the page.

"My first court case! You remember that? I was using most of my energy trying not to faint; I don't know how I got a word out."

Trying not to be distracted by Mike's pleasant scent, Harvey swallowed and replied, "I remember. Mostly because I couldn't believe how calm you seemed; no one in that room knew it was your first time."  
He turned his head slightly to look at Mike, breath hitching when he realized exactly how close their faces were to each other.

Mike let out a small breath, smirking. "I'd only known you a couple of days, and you'd already taught me so much."

"Oh, _now_ you're gonna  be humble? You always knew how to hold your own.."

Neither man seemed able to look away. Seconds ticked by. Finally, sure his heartbeat was clearly audible, Harvey leaned in ever so slightly, testing; subtle enough that he could easily deny it if he was called out on it. But Mike didn't move away. Instead he parted his lips and -

"Hello? Anybody up here?"

Harvey jerked back just as a young Asian guy appeared in the doorway, holding bags of food. A savory, spicy smell started to invade the office. Mike jumped to his feet, brought the bags to the table, and handled the payment, including what looked like a generous tip. He thanked the delivery guy and instructed him on how to get back out of the building.

While this was happening, Harvey barely managed to pull himself back onto the couch. He felt like he was shaking off a particularly vivid daydream. Suddenly he felt sure that Mike hadn't realized what was about to happen; what Harvey was about to do. Or maybe he did realize, and he'd been about to tell him not to.  
Mike sure _seemed_ unaffected; he was getting out utensils and opening the food containers, making little humming sounds as each lid came off. Wanting to do something useful, Harvey got the beers out of the fridge, and the two men settled down with their late dinner, eating in silence.

Once they finished, they both sat back for a moment, allowing their food to settle.  They talked about the case at hand, as well as other current cases that they couldn't let suffer as a consequence of all this extra work. Neither mentioned the moment from before, and Harvey became even more sure that he'd imagined the tension between them.  
  
Before long they settled back into their original task and barely spoke another word to each other.  
The moment was definitely over, if it had ever begun. Harvey pushed down a mix of bitter feelings and willed himself to focus on reading case files.  
At some point, Mike - the annoyingly fast reader that he was - got to the bottom of all his piles and helped himself to some of Harvey's.

By the time they'd both finished reading through every last scrap of paper, it was close to midnight. The two men packed up their things and headed out, getting in the elevator to ride down to street level.  
Watching the floor numbers tick down, Harvey wondered if he should say something. A thank you didn't seem like enough for the amount of work Mike had saved him, but it was a start.

Before he could get out the words, though, Mike chuckled slightly.  
"With all the security in this building, I've always wondered if we're being watched in here."

"You worried the guards are secretly witnessing you practice your dance moves between floors?"

"Of course not, my moves are nothing to be ashamed of."

"Well, we're not being watched; there are cameras pointing at the doors on each platform, but none in-"

He was cut off by Mike's lips pressed against his own. He took a sharp breath through his nose, leaning into the kiss. Mike's hands rested lightly at the base of his neck, and pushed him back way too soon. His eyes found Harvey's. He looked as dizzy as Harvey felt, but his voice was steady when he spoke.

"Tell me I wasn't imagining you almost kissing me earlier."

"You weren't imagining it."

"Good. Ask me to come home with you."

Harvey shivered, but didn't hesitate. "Come home with me."

-

The cab ride that followed was one of the more tense experiences of Harvey's life. Forget high stakes cases, stressful depositions, waiting for juries' verdicts; none of those things could hold to a candle to sitting within reach of a person you desperately wanted your hands on - now knowing they wanted your hands on them - having to instead fold those hands neatly in your lap to keep them from wandering.

They arrived on Harvey's street, left the cab and entered Harvey's building; they passed by the doorman who definitely smirked behind the newspaper he was pretending to read. And soon they found themselves in another elevator, the one going up to Harvey's floor, making out like teenagers.

"Mike, do you have an elevator-fetish I should know about?"

"It's just professional courtesy; I also go down sometimes."

-

When they finally stumbled through Harvey's front door, both men were out of their jackets and kicking off shoes. Harvey was doing his best to lead them safely around furniture and through doorways, while Mike was more focused on getting Harvey's tie and shirt out of the way, so he could attack the skin underneath with bites and kisses.

They landed on Harvey's bed in a jumble of limbs, working off their final bits of clothing before finally getting skin to skin, lost in the sensations of each other's lips and roaming hands. Harvey only managed to get his head above water when Mike whispered something he didn't comprehend. He panted, "What?"

"Lube, Harvey; do you have lube?"

He scrambled to get the lube out of his nightstand, along with a condom, shutting the drawer with his elbow. He was about to get the tube open, when it was unceremoniously snatched from his hands, leaving him momentarily flustered, voice deep with feigned authority.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Please, don't get all defensive; you don't think I've got you figured out by now, me of all people? It's always the dominant personalities who dream of a good pounding."

Harvey's cheeks flushed at the words and he was about to make a snappy retort when Mike kissed him again, slower, gently pushing his legs apart.

"Less bantering, more spreading."

There was a glint in Mike's eyes, assuring him of the humor behind the words. Harvey's heart raced and his head was spinning as it tried to compose a comeback; mind desperately grasping to regain the upper hand. But then Mike started touching him, slowly and surely, and he knew he was in good hands; he didn't need to be on top, metaphorically or literally; in this room, in this bed, they could be true equals.

He let Mike take control of his body, carefully move him into position, caress his limbs like he was something precious. Harvey was used to being seen as an asset, a valuable commodity, but somehow the weight of this moment was almost unfamiliar; it felt like that feeling had been taken off a shelf in his brain and dusted off. It had been a long time since this happened and he greeted the feeling with open arms.  
And.. open legs.

Mike slipped on the condom, pulled Harvey closer, aligning their bodies; he kissed Harvey one more time as he pushed in. Mike relished in the gasps he pulled from the other's mouth, the feeling of Harvey adjusting to him, allowing him to take charge. He couldn't help breaking the loaded silence by placing a hand on Harvey cheek, teasingly whispering, "You're doing so well."

Harvey grimaced, his expression a mess of offended amusement; and he pushed Mike's hand away, rolling his hips upwards to prove he was ready for more.

"Why don't you get to that pounding you were promising?"

Mike did not need further convincing to deliver on his word. He moved Harvey's legs to wrap around his waist, allowing himself to thrust deeper while keeping a steady pace. The soundtrack of their moans filled the room; they grabbed at each other like they were afraid of falling; their bodies moved together like they were made for it.

Harvey's skin was burning, his body aching with pleasure; it was too much but somehow not enough. His hands found Mike's hips, futilely trying to get him closer, as if he could somehow merge their bodies completely. But Mike was having none of it, manhandling Harvey until he had both his wrists pinned above his head, trapped.

"I've got it." Mike said. "For once, just let someone else get behind the wheel."

"If you think I'm ever gonna let you drive my Porsche, you're-"

Mike shut him up with a kiss, still holding Harvey's wrists down firmly with one hand while the other grabbed a pillow. With a little cooperation from the other man, Mike managed to get the pillow under the small of Harvey's back, lifting his hips into a better position.

When Mike started moving again, Harvey's eyes slipped shut and he let out a moan of near relief. The feeling of being held in place while waves of pleasure rolled through him, it was making him almost delirious.  
He couldn't touch Mike, only lay back and receive the slow, teasing strokes the other man gave his cock.  
That sensation was one of few things tying him to reality; that and the sound of Mike's gasps and moans as he crashed their hips together in short, hard thrusts.

Mike moved in for another kiss, but Harvey nudged his head to the side, so he could brush his lips against the Mike's neck instead, murmuring in this ear, "You feel so good in me.."

He felt a little proud of himself when the words landed, and Mike's thrusts lost their rhythm. He finally had to let go of his bruising grip on Harvey's wrists, and instead they went to the mattress to keep his balance as he shivered.

"I'm gonna- I can't.."

"Do it, Mikey, come in me."

With a sound like he'd been punched in the stomach, Mike fell forward and finished with a few final jerks of his hips. He buried his face in Harvey's neck, breath hard and warm against the sensitive skin. Then he pulled out and rolled to the side, groaning with effort.

"Oh my god.."

He swallowed hard, trying to center himself; he felt completely drained, but he couldn't fall asleep while there was still work to do. He rolled over to reach for his lover, only to realize that Harvey was watching him as he stroked himself. Mike bit his lip, enjoying the sight for a moment before moving.

"Let me get that for you."

He scooted closer, replacing Harvey's hand with his own, stroking him firmly, and bringing their mouths together for another kiss. Harvey ran his hand through Mike's hair, the length of it just enough to hold on to.  
It didn't take many twists of Mike's capable hand before Harvey moaned hoarsely against his mouth, pulling Mike's hair just a little as he came all over his lover's moving hand and his own stomach.

It almost felt like he blacked out for a moment, the sensations were so intense. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to even out his breath; but he was only challenged further by the sight of Mike sucking his fingers clean.

"Fuck, Mikey.."

"You made a mess, babe. We might have to take a shower."

Babe. Not a word Harvey had ever allowed anyone to call him, but now it somehow felt strangely appropriate. He reluctantly left the bed to join Mike in the shower.

In the steamed up room he let his thoughts go searching for the freedom he'd felt while he was being held down; and the feeling was still right there, planted solidly in his chest. Put there by a person who was currently too dumbfounded by the different nozzle functions to realize that he was being fallen in love with.  



End file.
